


Kiss Him Under The Dream Light

by nitpickyabouttrains



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Yuletide 2014, for the angst of it all, leaning closer, two boys lit by firelight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2767091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Newt talk after the Bondfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Him Under The Dream Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slipshod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipshod/gifts).



The fire was dying slowly, crackling and glowing. Flames were still licking at the wood, not yet ready to fade out. Thomas sat at the edge of the circle, not far from where he had been with Newt earlier in the night.

Thomas had only been in the Glade for a few hours, less than a day, and it all felt strange, foreign. Chuck had shown him where his hammock was for the night, but Thomas was not yet ready to go to sleep. His mind was moving too quickly; there was too much he still did not understand, did not know.

All the other boys had gone to bed, and Thomas had tried to follow suit. He was exhausted. But after tossing and turning and listening to the other boys’ snoring for a while, he had given up and come to sit by the fire again.

There was a rustling in the dried leaves and Thomas’s head whipped around to see what had made the noise. “Who’s there?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Thomas?” Newt’s voice sounded rough, unused and thick with sleep.

Newt’s voice reached Thomas just a second before he saw the other boy step out from the bushes where he had been, presumably, relieving himself. His hair was sticking up in all directions, mused from sleep. He was squinting at Thomas like he had not fully woken yet, could not comprehend what was going on. He ran a hand through his hair slowly, only making the matter worse, as his eyes focused on Thomas.

“Go back to sleep, Newt,” Thomas said softly. He did not want to wake up everyone else, so he was being quiet. And something about the sleepy boy in front of him made him want to speak in a low tone.

“Yeah,” Newt said, glancing over his shoulder at the hammocks where the other boys were, then back at Thomas. “You should get some sleep too.”

Thomas shook his head. “I can’t sleep.”

“It was a long day for you, getting here,” Newt acknowledged. “Tomorrow is going to be even longer. Rest up while you have the chance, you won’t be sorry.”

It had been a long day. So long Thomas could barely comprehend it. And yet the idea of closing his eyes still was not appealing. There was too much on his mind, too much to think about. The Glade frightened him. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be in in a little while. I just need a little more time.”

Newt sighed and took a few steps, closing the space between them. He threw himself down on the ground next to Thomas, a surprisingly graceful fold of limbs for someone so young. "I know you still have a lot of questions. You'll start to get answers tomorrow, when you go on your tour. And you are doing well, already remembering your name, Thomas."

There was something about the way Newt said his name, a whisper, but strong and proud. It sent a shiver through Thomas’s spine.

"It's just strange," Thomas said, closing his eyes, "for remembering my own name to be a big deal."

There was silence for a second, but Thomas knew Newt was still there, sitting next to him. He could hear the other boy breathing steadily. And then, suddenly there was a hand on his cheek. It was callused and strong, but warm and gentle. Thomas kept his eyes closed, and he was leaning into the heat, almost without thought. Because it felt nice. Because it felt comfortable. Because it felt almost like home.

“Did Gally hurt you,” Newt asked carefully, “before, when you were tussling?”

“No, not really, I’ll be fine-” Thomas started to say. But just as he got to the word ‘fine’ Newt’s thumb brushed over his cheekbone and Thomas winced.

“You’ll have a bruise in the morning,” Newt said, his face so close that Thomas could feel his breath on his cheek. “But you’ll live.”

Thomas started to nod, and it brought his face even closer into Newt’s, so that their noses were practically touching. And then they were kissing.Thomas was not sure which one of them started it, and he didn’t care.

Newt’s lips were strong against his own, firm and full of purpose. Newt was in control, his second hand going to Thomas’s hair, fingers carding against his scalp, his first hand not leaving Thomas’s face.

It felt like the fire had flared up again, it felt amazing. Thomas leaned into it, pressing his whole body against Newt’s, letting the heat of the other boy warm him. Newt was all muscle and sinew, and Thomas could feel every breath, every movement the other boy made through their thin shirts.

Newt tasted like the booze they had been drinking before, like fire and smoke. His lips were dry and cracked, like he was thirsty. Newt kissed like it too, like he was dying for a drink and Thomas was a fresh stream. Like he needed Thomas. He seemed to gain strength from the kiss, sitting up taller, his hands growing stronger as it went on.

Almost as soon as the kiss had started, it was over. Newt pulled back, just a little, so there was a hairs-width of space between them. His hands untangled from Thomas, dropping, and, suddenly, Thomas was without contact and cold.

Thomas opened his eyes slowly. The dying light from the fire glowed behind Newt, illuminating his messy hair from the back, making it look golden, like a crown of light on his head. His eyes were wide and bright, glowing in the darkening night. And on the corner of his mouth, a slow smirk was forming on his lips.

More than anything, Thomas wanted to pull himself closer again. He missed the heat of the other boy, the way his lips felt against his own. The loss of touch ached in him, given but then snatched away so quickly.

“Get some sleep,” Newt said, repeating his point from before. “It’ll all look better in the morning.”

Then Newt popped up from his spot next to Thomas, standing up in a flail of legs and arms. He shot Thomas a wink over his shoulder and started to slowly make his way back to the hammocks.

Thomas watched him go off into the darkness. The final embers of the bonfire crackled, sparking. Thomas stared into them, feeling better than he had before, more centered. The night didn’t seem as dark now, the sky seemed more blue than black. Maybe he could go to sleep after all.


End file.
